I USED TO KNOW HIM

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

     Sometime near midnight, Margret took the car and went home. Nick poured a

cup of the coffee she had made for him and went back into the study to

look at the paintings a second time. It was good, professional work, and

he wondered if he could do the same stuff again. Hell, he decided, it'll

be a long time until I get back at an easel. He finished the coffee and

went up to bed.

     It took awhile to get to sleep. Thoughts of the wrecked plane, Margret, the

strange men and CallumBrice kept running around in his head without

finding answers to the enigmas, they presented to him. Finally, he slept.

* * * * *

     He was looking at himself, in the dream, but it was not in a mirror. He

was standing inside a polished room and the other NickDanson lay on a

bed wrapped in sleep. Nick blinked at the still duplicate of himself on

the bed and turned away to look at the room he was in. It wasn't large.

     It appeared to be some kind of bedroom, and it was well lighted although

there were no lights to be seen; the walls seemed to glow, and

everything was of a bright metal. The mirror caught his eye and he saw

himself in the same blue and yellow uniform that he'd worn before. The

Danson who lay asleep on the bed was dressed in blue dress pants and a

white shirt. The tie had been loosened at his throat and his clothing

was wrinkled badly.

     Suddenly the other Danson opened his eyes and looked at Nick. For a

moment he appeared to be startled at seeing him, then he smiled. The

smile erupted in a chuckle that became a laugh. The other Danson's face

grew large and full, roaring out laughter at Nick until the whole scene

changed from one of odd curiosity to one of absolute horror, the kind of

weird horror that can come only from peals of loud, echoing laughter

rolling through the caverns of the mind.

* * * * *

     Nick awoke gasping, his fingers knotted in the sheets of the bed and a

cold sweat beading out upon his face. His heart hammered in his chest

like a drum, threatening to leap to his throat at any moment. He looked

around anxiously for Margret, but the silence of the room reminded him that

she had gone back to the city and her job. Dawn was breaking and the dim

light filtered through the unwashed windows. There was little point in

trying to sleep now. Might as well get his clothes on and try to start

unraveling a long thread of odd events.

     He pulled on his clothes slowly and slid his feet into his shoes,